


Those two years without you

by Fusselfriek



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Anal Sex, First Kiss, It's gonna get steamy, M/M, Psychology, Sad Sherlock, just wait
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-08-23
Updated: 2016-03-11
Packaged: 2018-04-16 19:32:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 8,527
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4637559
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fusselfriek/pseuds/Fusselfriek
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>So alright, this is going to be a longer fic. About what happend in those two years when we was away. He  changed so much when he came back, maybe he met someone who showed him something about himself? </p><p>Yeah, it begins with Viclock but it will change :) Or will it?</p><p>"I would love to discuss this with you...tomorrow in my bedroom"</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The end

Sherlock sat in the taxi. It was a dark night and all he could see outside were the lights of passing cars and lighted shop windows and restaurants. From time to time he could also see a few people rushing on the sidewalks looking for shelter from the rain. Oh, and it was raining. What a fitting ending for the day. A short time later the car stopped on a runway. It had to be some private airport considering that it was far from the city and the place was surrounded by barbed wire. Typical Mycroft. The mentioned one emerged at this very moment, of course. Sherlock got out and looked at his big brother. "Sherlock” he stated," You look terrible."" Always charming, Mycroft!" Mycroft smiled a little forced. But then his face softend a bit. "Are you sure you can go through with that?" "Of course, I'm not stupid Myroft. I will wipe out Moriarty's network and not even leave a trace." He left a dramatic pause to let his words sink in. But Mycroft shook his head. "I wasn't talking about that, I mean John, you know very well that you can't contact him under any circumstances. Or you willingly gonna put him in great danger. " Sherlock huffed merely at that "I know. Why would this be difficult for me? "" You know that very well. I've been watching your relationship with him in recent time and it seems to me you've developed an sort of increasing affection for him." He grimaced at the word "affection". Sherlock rolled his eyes and said, "Your very existence causes me headache." His brother, however, ignored the insult and held out his hand. "That's it then, i see you when you're done." Hesitantly Sherlock took his hand. Then he walked past him to the plane and climbed the few steps. Just before he disappeared, he looked over his shoulder and shouted, "If you try hard enough, you can lose a few pounds until I'm back." And with that he disappeared from the sight of all those standing around. "Just come back." Mycroft murmured to himself, standing alone in the rain, his umbrella finally of use.  
Sherlock sat in his seat, alone in the airplane which was designed for 30 people. It was brightly lit and yet he felt as if he were sitting in the dark. Lonely and alone.  
As it rose shortly after, he looked at London getting smaller and smaller under him and muttered: "Goodbye, London. Good-bye ... John"


	2. A new chapter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock meets his new flatmate.

~~~  
It was cold. Freezing to be exact. It was so cold that Ice flowers had formed on the windows. They were driving for at least two hours already. In the front seat the two Russians couldn't stop talking. From what he had picked up since he came here it was mostly rubbish. They talked about women, about someone who had done something with someone else. Things that couldn't really capture his interest. Nevertheless, he used the time to get used to the language. "Hey, my little friend," said one suddenly, with a heavy accent. "We're taking you to a man, today. There a room is available and there you will stay." A moment Sherlock considered to tell them they should leave him alone, he didn't need anyone. But it had been a long day and the 16-hour flight and the last two hours in this icy vehicle had made him tired and surprisingly hungry. And the thought of a hot meal and a comfortable bed began to look pretty awesome.  
Quite a while later, when it was already late at night, the car stopped. Sherlock got out. Without thinking about the two men, he climbed the stairs. Outside the door, he hesitated. Should he knock or try to find his room on his own? At this moment one of the men took the decision from him by hitting firmly with his fist against the door. It took a minute until it opened and an amazingly alert man stood in the doorway. Astonished Sherlock watched the Man leaning against the door frame shoving his hand through his curly blond hair and starting to talk quietly to the man in Russian, ignoring Sherlock. He waited until his driver grinned and gestured in his direction. Then the stranger raised his eyes and looked Sherlock over. He said something to the man with raised eyebrows from which Sherlock only knew a few words. Then Sherlocks driver turned around, waved and disappeared. Now Sherlock had all the attention of the young man to himself. "So Hi, I am Victor!" He reached out his hand to Sherlock. Sherlock began to deduce the man. He wrote poems, obviously, liked red wine, loves art and photography, athletic, has a cat, single, smart, smoking, gay ?! "at the last deduction Sherlock raised an eyebrow. "Do you mind telling me your name too?" Grinned Victor friendly not at all intimidated by Sherlock's scrutiny. "Excuse me," murmured the addressed. "Sherlock" "Wow, what a name, come on in."  
Inside the apartment Sherlock could see his deductions confirmed, at any free space lying brushes, wine glasses, on the walls hung sketches and stunning black and white photographs, in a corner lay weights and a mat and on a piano was a white cat fast asleep. The chaos still had a fascinating cosiness which had Sherlock so affected that he started to yawn. "Oh yes, sorry, I'll take you to your room." He took the small suitcase from Sherlock and went to a door. Behind were staircases and at the top there was a small, beautiful room. In the center was a large bed, on the edge two cabinets and a desk. Sherlock thanked his host and then closed the door. Within five minutes he was naked and laid in bed. It smelled good, freshly washed, it was warm, but still he could not find rest. Tired he sought answers in his mind palace. When he entered it, he found that he was not alone. Someone had been waiting for him. Set in a large wing chair beside the fire was John. "Where were you so long?" He asked quietly, letting down his newspaper. Sherlock sat down opposite him. "I've been busy." "Lie," replied the mindpalace-John. "You didn't come, because you couldn't bear the feeling of missing me." "No, I do not miss you. Why should I miss you, you're just a flatmate. "John looked at him and his wounded sight caused Sherlock wanting to backtrack and inform him that he meant more to him. But pride is a strong feature. And so Sherlock got up and disappeared somewhere in the depths of the vaults to look for a unique Vivaldi piece.  
   
~~~  
The next morning:  
He went down, some questions had formed in his head that still needed answering. Since he didn't find Victor he looked for the shower. The door was ajar, and as Sherlock opened it, he was confronted with the sight of a half-naked Victor. Sherlock stepped back and closed the door feeling to his horror the blood rushing to his cheeks. While he pondered how he could manage getting out as soon as possible from this embarrassing situation and still keeping his honor, the door opened again and Victor stepped out. At Sherlock's misfortune his upper body was still shockingly naked and from this close he could see the subtle muscles. He stood confidently in front of Sherlock and smiled a little embarrassed: "I'm sorry if I scared you. But I never close any doors. Best you knock next time." Sherlock just stood there, trying desperately to look Victor in the eye and give a reasonably intelligent answer. Instead, his brain screamed only: “Why? Why is he half-naked? John has never been half naked! "Under Victor's something smug smile, he retreated to the bathroom. Had he stayed out a little bit longer, he would have seen, Victor, grinning and rubbing his hands triumphantly .  
A while later, Sherlock came with his robe out on its normal clothes. Victor sat at the piano and played a piece of what Sherlock immediately recognized as Sonata No. 12 of Mozart. When he saw Sherlock, he stopped and smiled at him. "I made breakfast ..." "I'm not hungry," murmured the other and went to his room. There he started researching for Moriarty's network. "It's easy, John." He explained, "you have to crack only the security code of Moriarty's mobile phone and find the contact person between him and the network in Russia." Whether the lack of reply, he raised his head and stared at the Wall in front of him. "Oh ..." he muttered.  
The hours vanished, while he went through the decryption of the smartphone. At some point there was a knock on his door. He ignored it studiously. The door was pushed open and shortly afterwards a cup of hot coffee was brought to him. "I thought maybe you need some caffeine." "Thank you, he muttered. "I'll soon start cooking if you want to eat ..." "I'm fine, I don't need anything." He gave him an annoyed look. Why didn't he just disappear again? As Victor stood undecided around in his room he added a rather annoying: "You can go now!" . Victor gave him a puzzled look, and withdrew.  
After another 10 hours before his laptop he capitulated. His head fell forward, and in a final act of will he pushed the laptop to the front and put his head on his arms.


	3. The missing piece

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Its mostly about sherlock missing John and Victor being his friendly, hot self. :)

The missing piece  
He woke up in his bed.  
He felt terrible, his whole body ached. Rolling onto his side he curled himself into a ball. "John!" He muttered. Mindpalace-John was there immediately."Sherlock, why don't you admit it? You miss me!" Sherlock tried to stick his fingers in his ears to block him out, just as he had done as a child when his parents were annoying him. But of course he could not block out his own thoughts. "Admit it, that makes it easier!" "That doesn't make it easier! It is hard enough! "  
"Sherlock!" John had the same hurt look at the time when Sherlock said he had no friends. "I think you're dead!" "But it was for you!" Sherlock stood up. Furious, he opened the door and ran down the stairs. Hopefully this Victor was not there. But as soon as he had entered the apartment, everything went black. When he woke up again his legs were on a chair while he was laying on the floor. "Oh, welcome back!" Said Victor, who was sitting beside him. He helped him to lift his head and gave him a glass of water. Then he lowered him back down. "Okay, listen to me Sherlock. My job here is to make sure you're safe and sound, and you're making it damn hard for me! I can't reanimate you all the time, just because you don't want to eat or drink.” " Don't do it then. " murmured Sherlock.  
"Oh please, a bit melodramatic today are we?" He laughed and looked him in the eyes. Sherlock felt reset. Maybe because he was a still a bit ill and his thoughts circled again around John. Victor looked down at him and he appeared to be reading him. Suddenly he stopped and gave him a hand to pull him to his feet. But Sherlock's sense of balance had not yet been restored and he swayed violently and Victor took this to pull him close and support him. He took him to the kitchen table and sat him down there. "I cook something. You stay there. "" I do not need your babysitting! "" Oh yes? Your brother seems to disagree. "" What? "" I just had a very informative discussion with Mykke "" Mycroft? "" Yeah, that sounds so old ... "" Why the hell did you call Mycroft? " "Because his little brother has lost awareness twice in my presence and I had to take care of him." "The first time I just slept!" He looked evil at Victor. "I have to work! I have to crack Moriarty network, okay? I must get back to London! "" Well, you're the center of every party, huh? "" Party's are irrelevant. "" Eating, however, is highly relevant ... and I expect you to do it from now on, or you can go back to London and live with your brother." The threat silenced Sherlock. If there was something that was even more terrible than to live in the middle of Russia in an apartment with a total stranger, who wanted to make him eat more, then it was the huge, horrible, cold house of his childhood where Mycroft lived now. He had sworn never to return there.  
"Okay ... what exactly do you want?" In Victor's eyes glowed something like victory. "Ohh, what I want you will learn later ... but for now I expect that you eat regularly and you have break of two hours in the evening." "How is that supposed to be good?" "That your body and mind get something else then just the bloody work." He winked. "You enjoy being a teacher, right? So much that you apply it to other areas of your life. You're obsessed with bossing people. "" Oh, well." Victor grinned," I finally get a taste of your genius. " Meanwhile, he was frying eggs and ham in a large iron skillet. The smell was mouth watering and spawned forgotten memories.

John standing on a Sunday in the kitchen. Sherlock lay on the couch. He could smell what his friend was doing. Fried eggs with bacon. "Sherlock you hungry?" His voice sounded loud through the apartment. "No," replied the addressed person. "Okay, then I'll do two eggs!" Sherlock could not suppress a smile. For himself, John made only one egg. What would happen if he would say he was very hungry? Five eggs? "Stop laughing at me and move your ass to the table." And Sherlock got up, pleased with the continuity of their home.

"What are you grinning about?" "John." He answered before realizing his mistake. "Uh, I meant ..." but he could not find a suitable word, which he could have mistaken. "Who is John?" asked Victor. "He's my, my ... roommate!" "Roommate!" Muttered Victor, pulling an suggesting eyebrow. "No, he was not, we are not ... what about the food?" Victor suppressed a grin and put a plate in front of Sherlock. And as an escape from the question he started very slowly and intensely to eat his food. When he finished he stood up and tried to walked back upstairs. But Victor stopped him. "Wait a minute, at 10, I want you down here." Sherlock grumbled something under his breath and disappeared for good. After Sherlock entered his room, he sunk together behind the door. The beautiful memory of John had left a bitter taste. He felt alone and as he lacked a piece. "I thought it goes on and on ... eggs for breakfast every Sunday. I never thought I'd have to leave you behind me. He slumped down and started out of sheer despair, to enumerate the periodic table. He repeated this method until his breathing had calmed down.  
 

~~  
Victor had already opened a bottle of wine and was sitting on the couch. "Hey Genius," he said as Sherlock came down the stairs. He dropped into a chair, pulled his legs to his body and pushed out his lower lip. "I think I am beginning to understand the concerns of your big brother." "I doubt it." Murmured Sherlock, "To understand the deep recesses of worries of my brother you have to be a shrink." "I've studied psychology, remember? "" I always delete unimportant data immediately. "" Ouch! "laughed Victor. Sherlock drew puzzled eyebrows. "I don't understand why this doesn't work with you?" "What?" "I'm sarcastic and evil and yet you just laugh and don't go away. What is your motive?" Victor put a finger to his lips and seemed to have to think deeply about it. “ First a genius was promised to me and so far I have noticed surprisingly little of it and second I love the inner psychology of people and your Sherlock, God I could write a book about it." "Already? We talked like 10 minutes and you think you can analyze me? "In Sherlock's voice was beside the obvious arrogance a trace of curiosity. "I think I already know a lot ..." "Okay then amaze me." Sherlock leaned slightly forward, staring intently at Victor. He, however, remained surprisingly cool, "Your childhood was not very nice, I guess you were often alone!" Sherlock looked at him amazed for a second but then his face dropped again to the well-known indifference. "Pfft ... anyone can say something like that, how do you prove your thesis?" "Very simply, honestly. As you previously sat at the table and I said you could live with your brother, you shuddered. "Victor looked at Sherlock intently. The other guy tried to keep his composure. "And? That is nothing. Maybe I hate my brother? "" No, that's not it. He's your big brother and you admire him, probably because he's so cold and callous and you wish you could be like him. And yet you delivered to your feelings without mercy or do you want to say you didn't have a panic attack in your room, just because I mentioned your ex-boyfriend? "Sherlock flinched under Victor's words and put his arms around his knees. “So I come to the conclusion that you like your brother and would probably prefer him to me, and yet you obeyed me. So you don't want to be in his home, which probably was your parents' house. You've spent your childhood there and you're afraid to go back there. "Victor looked at him expectantly. Sherlock tried to shake off the surge of panic and said with a slightly broken voice, "How do you know about the panic attack?" "I heard how you have enumerated the periodic table. It is a good exercise, you learn it the first semester. "Sherlock faked a smile," You learned the periodic table? "" No, it is a method to control your breathing in which you say numbers or words. They can vary greatly, it is important that you distract yourself from the panic. "Sherlock grabbed his glass and downed half. Then they both sat there, staring at their wine glasses and were silent. Only after a while Sherlock rose his voice. "You're uh ... good!" He didn't looked at Victor and therefore couldn't see how his eyes lit up with the compliment.  
"I know. When will I see your genius?" "Take me with you to your class ..." Both of the looked up. Victor's eyes were full of astonishment, Sherlock's full of ambition. "Okay, tomorrow at eight o'clock we leave." He glanced at the clock, then at Sherlock and said: "I think I'll go to sleep." Sherlock sat for a while and stared into space. "Perhaps," he thought to himself, "this could be very interesting.


	4. Chapter 4

When Sherlock entered the apartment the next morning, Victor was nowhere to be found. Instead, he found a door behind a curtain which was locked. The curiosity took his mind of. Victor had hidden things here? Any dirty secrets? He pulled his burglary tool from his pocket and began to work on the lock. But at that moment a sweaty, panting Victor came in. "What the hell are you doing?" He gasped and Sherlock froze in his deed. "I'm uhm," he cleared his throat and said finally, "I was bored ... you were not there ..." "I'm not here for five minutes and you're trying to break into my private rooms?" "Why private? What's in there?" But instead of answering, Victor run his fingers through his hair and murmured:" I might have to have a word with your brother."" A corpse? "" What.? No ... Now go away from there, just wait, I will take a shower." With that he pulled Sherlock devices from the lock, pocketed it and disappeared into the bathroom. Not five minutes later, he came out, loosely covered with a towel. "Sherlock" he said "We need to set a few ground rules ... rifling through my things are a no go, do you understand that?" Sherlock's eyes were glued to his face, probably not to stare at victor's muscular torso. "Okay ..." "Well, I'll be right back." He walked to his room, away from Sherlock. As he went, he opened the towel and hung it around his neck, so Sherlock was faced for a moment with his butt until he turned away and tried to investigate the opposite wall.

On the way to school, Victor started. "You asked me why I don't go away, haven't you?" Sherlock nodded. "You know, in addition to all the psychological things ... You really are handsome." "I don't understand ..." He grinned and winked at Sherlock "You know ... I thought I might have a chance with you? "Sherlock furrowed his forehead. "I'm not really interested in such ... stuff ..." He said the last word like a curse.  
Victor looked at him attentively. "Oh, I'm sure ..." He twisted his mouth into a mocking smile.  
Sherlock didn't respond and tried to hide behind his mask of indifference.

A short time later they reached the school.  
Victor introduced Sherlock to his students as an intern and let him sit next to his desk.  
When the class had to read something, he pointed to a boy with blue hair. Sherlock nodded.  
Later, they left the building. Victor guided them to a cafe where he ordered them both a cup of coffee. Victor leaned back, raised his cup to his lips and finally asked: ". Go on then, amaze me" Sherlock steepled his fine hands and smiled, "Dean,” he said ”yes? He is 17, tall, nicely built, working out in gym, has no girlfriend but a little dog ... " He enjoyed the astonished gaze which Victor gave him. "What about his house?" "He lives with his parents, he plays a lot of computer, his parents are wealthy, pay close attention to their only son." "That's right, and what is his psyche?" Sherlock took his time and drank a few sips of coffee. The human psyche was tricky. He could see within seconds what the people had done, but their reasons were often extremely cryptic. The motives behind murders were much simpler, love, hate, greed, jealousy. Why they visited a gym, had a cat or hated their parents... he didn't know. Interesting ... Victor's face broke into a slightly arrogant smile. Sherlock opened his mouth and gave information: "He's happy, he has a family who love him, he looks good, he has friends and he has enough money." Victor's facial features didn't change. For a moment he waited, grinning in his coffee. Then he raised his eyes and looked at Sherlock. "This is your weak spot, Sherlock!" "What?" "You're wrong, viewed logical you had to be right, he may have to actually be happy. But he is not.""No? "" No, he hates his life, his parents annoying him, he would like to have a girlfriend and he is often unsatisfied with his body. "Sherlock was stunned. "How do you know?" "Well, I know him. He's a student of mine and we talk. He writes good articles. "For a while the two men silently looked into each others eyes, then Sherlock began to smile. A genuine smile that lit up his whole face. "You did that on purpose!" Victor smiled back. He didn't answer, but Sherlock knew that he was right. He wanted to teach him a lesson. "You have to teach me." "Are you sure? Psychology requires a lot of confidence and you have face you're own demons."" I'm absolutely sure. "

~~

When Sherlock came into the apartment later the same day, he was greeted with a well-familiar sight. Victor had opened the wine and when he saw him, he poured him a glass. Sherlock sat down and smiled, he was a bit excited to learn something new. "Okay, Sherlock ... tell me about John." "What does that has to do with psychology? His forehead wrinkled angrily." I told you it's important to deal with your own psyche. "Sherlock grumbled, crossing his arms. For a while it looked as if he was going to remain like that all evening. But finally he sighed, "He was my flatmate, as I said." "And you and he were together?" "What do you mean?" "Well you were in a relationship?" "No, we were Friends. "" Are you sure?" Sherlock grimaced an arrogant smirk." I think I would know if we had been together." Victor drank some wine and looked at Sherlock from top to bottom, until the one looked at started to feel uncomfortable. "It's just ... I have a feeling that there's more." He looked deep into his eyes, "You were in love, am I right?" "No ..." "Well, okay. ..tell me how he is ... "" ... He was a good shot. A good doctor too, he understood me and never made me feel like i was different. He was my friend, he thought ... I am extraordinary." He took his glass and drank hastily a few big gulps. He could not bear Victor's attentive eyes, staring at a point behind him. "Do you miss him?" "I'm a sociopath, I have no such feelings." All of a sudden Victor sighted. "I'm sorry, Sherlock, but I can't teach you anything." He stood up and walked slowly toward his bedroom door. When he was almost there Sherlock called him back. "Wait Victor, what do you want me to do?" Victor turned around and pointed an accusing finger at him. "You have to be honest! Sherlock, I'm smart, I can see if you're hiding something from me. If you really want to learn something, you have to be honest, not only to me but also to yourself. It will be exhausting and it will hurt, but only if you know yourself, you'll learn something. "Sherlock nodded and murmured softly: "I miss him." Victor smiled and went back to his place. "How does that feel?" Sherlock waved his wineglass and staring into the dark red liquid while he quietly and haltingly replied. "It's like missing a part of me, an important part. If I close my eyes, he's there, he always asks whether I miss him and I say no. It hurts, it doesn't stop ... "the wine glass shattered, clinking on the ground while Sherlock collapsed and began to shiver all over his body. He looked at John as he leaned over him, his eyes wide in panic, repeatedly shouting "He is my friend!" And he couldn't do anything, was for the first time in the desperate situation to helplessly watch how his friend broke. "It's my fault, my fault, John!" John stared at him, "Sherlock, look at me, Sherlock breathe, calm down and breathe ..." He tried and he slowly calmed down again, John's face slowly disappearing, instead Victors face looming over him. He looked around, saw the broken glass to his feet and Victor over him, with both hands on his shoulders. He didn't take them away and Sherlock didn't ask because this hands were his assurance that he had solid ground under his feet. "Hey," Victor muttered , "That was very brave of you," He raised a hand and drove through Sherlock's curls. Sherlock had the strange feeling of Dejavu. When Redbeard had died Mycroft had stroked him like that, but it had felt forced. Now it felt good, almost naturally. Victor let go of Sherlock and sat back on the couch. "I think we go on tomorrow." Now go and try to sleep. "Sherlock obeyed, he felt tired and done. "And if there is anything you are welcome to come down."


	5. First kiss

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Partytime, and Sherlock is going to experience something new.

First Kiss

For a few days the issue of John was left where it was. Instead they talked about Sherlock's work and Victor learned that it was terribly boring, something that just needed a lot of time, but little brain. On the fourth day Victor came into Sherlock's room. "Hey, I got a prize." Sherlock studied him confused, "For what?" "A couple of poems. It is not that important, more important is that I want to celebrate and I want you to come. "Sherlock agreed. He was even slightly excited to finally be able to leave the house and to analyze a few other people then just Victor and himself. So he was done a short time later. When Victor came out of his room, he was comparatively stunned. He wore tight jeans and an even closer light blue shirt, which didn't really leave anything to the imagination. Over his shoulder hung a leather jacket. "Oh, my dear, you look good," he said with a grin as he watched Sherlock from top to bottom. Sherlock also did go through the trouble to look good. He wore his black dress pants and the tight purple shirt.  
They took a taxi and drove for a while. The taxi stopped in front of a huge house. As they walked through the entrance, you could already hear laughing and loud music. "Oh, this is fantastic." Sherlock instead wondered whether the decision to come along really was a good one . First he got to know the host, a young man, also a teacher but just half as intelligent as Victor. But Victor did not seem to mind. He beamed at him and then let him kiss him on both cheeks. Sherlock was a bit embarrassed until he was introduced to him and the guy formally shook his hand. Then they went into the garden. It was filled with about 50 people, mostly men. It was beautifully decorated, everywhere hung lights and lamps and on a long table a great buffet was served and there was even a pavilion where people could dance. Everywhere stood large fake firebottles which produced enough heat, that even though the night was frosty nobody had to wear a jacket. Sherlock inhaled the fresh air hungrily. He hadn't been outside far to long. Victor directed him to a group of people standing near the buffet, each a wine glass or a bottle of beer in hand. Victor was greeted enthusiastically, everybody hugged and kissed him. Sherlock stood there looking a bit lost until one of the men asked: "And who's your pretty companion?" Victor grinned: "That's Sherlock, he currently lives with me, working on something super secret." He pushed Sherlock jokingly in the side and he smiled back halfheartedly. The group turned back to Victor and expressed their joy at his success when a tall, muscular man approached the group. According to Sherlock's deductions he was the sort of man that spent more time at the gym than anywhere else." He had a bottle tequila and a few lemons. "Well, you losers." He welcomed the group. Then he thrust his stuff into someones hand and pulled Victor into his arms. Victor laughed and gave him a quick kiss on the lips. When he let go of him again, he said: "Well, then let's drink some shots, what do you think?" The group cheered and together they went to one of the established tables. Sherlock was't asked, but suddenly there was a shot placed in front of him. When they were all busy with the ceremony of tequila drinking, he just looked confused at the clear liquid in front of him. Victor gave him an encouraging look so he copied them, licked, drank up and bid afterwards in the lemon. At the third shot he began to feel a tingling in his hands. Victor sat opposite him and slowly licked the juice from his fingers. Something about this fingers in his mouth made Sherlock restless, he didn't want to stare but did. But another also stared. It was the muscleman. He sat next to Victor and stroked his arm. And now he whispered something to him. Victor grinned and whispered something back. "Okay, excuse us for a bit, we have to talk to the staff." He said loudly, standing up. The muscle man and he disappeared and Sherlock stared after the two of them. "Sherly's your name?" Asked a man with slightly longer black hair. "Sherlock" he corrected. "Well, anyway, don't even bother, Victor is really for anyone to have. Always on the go, looking." He put another shot glass in front of him. "But you're pretty, you'll find someone." "Why?" Sherlock was confused, "Because he wants to talk with the staff?" "Oh, you're sweet," said a blond man next to him. "They're just doing a quickie in the bushes." He laughed and slapped Sherlock's shoulder. Sherlock sipped his alcohol. They emptied the bottle and Sherlock, now quite wobbly, was looking for a place to relieve himself. When he was done, he walked a little further around the garden. Away from the lights and people. His alcohol-fogged mind made him think of John. "Oh you would like this, John. Drinking and people ... but only gays everywhere. "He stopped to look at the beautiful night sky. "Sherlock?" He heard a voice behind him. It was Victor who fiddled with his belt. Probably he had just finished with the ... Sherlock tried to banish the idea and the uneasy feeling that it caused from his mind. "Can you tell me where you live? I would like to go home, "he mumbled. "Ha, no, I'm with you, I will not let you go alone somewhere, not in that state. I'm done here anyway." replied Victor. Shortly after that, they were in the taxi. At home Sherlock stumbled through the door and plopped down on the couch. Victor sat down beside him. "Soo" he muttered, crossing his arms behind his head. "Tell me what are you thinking ..." But Sherlock interrupted him. "Did you have fun with your muscleman. He doesn't seem to be the brightest light. "" But the sex, Sherlock, the sex is fantastic! ""Well... "Sherlock grimaced. "Have you ever wondered what it would be with John ...?" He thought ... "No ..." "You're thinking too long ... You've imagined something, tell me!" And perhaps he overconfident due to the alcohol or maybe he wanted to prove something, anyway, he said: "Kiss ..." So Victor grinned, "Well Sherlock ... and what do you think what kind of feeling it would be to kiss John? "" I don't know ... "" Oh come on, remember your first kiss and imagine it would have been with John. "" I was ... uh .... "Victor suddenly became serious. "You've never kissed anyone?" "I did! On the cheek..." "Want to try it ...?" "I do not know ..." "Okay, that's enough ... close your eyes!" said Victor. Sherlock obeyed, already shaking. "Take it easy," muttered the blonde. Victor took Sherlock's face in his hands and gave him a gentle kiss on the lips. Then he pulled his head back and Sherlock opened his eyes. "Interesting ..." murmured Sherlock. "Shh," made his opposite and leaned back into Sherlock's space. First it was gently again, but then he pushed Sherlock's lips open. Slowly he inserted his tongue into Sherlock's mouth and began to massage his tongue with his. He felt Sherlock trembling beneath him. He let his right hand slide down the cheek, down his chest and stomach, and finally came to a halt on the thigh. He began to caress him. His left hand was caught in Sherlock's curls and hold him in place. He ended the kiss only when both of them had to gasp for air. Sherlock's eyes were dark. Victor looked down and smirked: "Nah, look at you Sherlock ... do you want to ..." "Sherlock shook his head wildly and rushed into his room. He fell against the door. Totally confused and quite hard.


	6. Some things never change

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "And I would love to discuss it...tomorrow in my bedroom."

Sherlock woke up. He was shaking all over and felt strangely satisfied. He stared at the ceiling, thinking. Probably this euphoric stage had something to do with his dream. He had come home. John naturally had been there. He sat at the table, he looked sad. Which was alright, given the circumstances. But then Sherlock had stepped beside him and his eyes had lit up. Sherlock had pulled him in, grabbed his face and pressed his lips on Johns. For a moment, no one knew what would happen, but then John had put his arms around him and pulled him closer. Then he woke up. He ran a hand through his hair.  
He needed more information. So he got up and walked down. Victor sat at the table and was just eating a toast with honey. Sherlock waited until he finished, then he went up to him and surprised him by pressing his lips on the mans. He didn't wait long, but pushed his tongue decisive into the mouth of the other. He tasted like toast, butter and honey and Sherlock found himself in the peculiar situation of enjoying himself. He explored with his tongue while Victor slowly overcome his state of shock. When he recovered, he straightened up and tried to dominate Sherlock's tongue with his own. They fought a small battle, but Victor won. After all he had more experience. They only ended the kiss when they ran out of oxygen. Sherlock leaned back against the table, trying desperately to come back down from his high. Victor said, still a little out of breath, "That was ... unexpected. Earlier, I had actually planned to apologize ... " Sherlock took a deep breath, "Never mind, I collect data, that's all." "Of course you do." And just like this Victor took care of his breakfast again and Sherlock sat and looked Victor over. He looked good, no doubt. Anyway that's what Molly would say. And John might. Would he be jealous?  
Sherlock sat back and enjoyed the thought of John, the peace around him and the slight taste of honey on his tongue.

When he came down this evening, there was no wine. On the table were a few flowers and cookies and the whole room smelled delicate like lavender. Sherlock sat down in his chair. "What are you doing?" Victor came back from the kitchen and put a wine bottle unopened on the table. "Today I don't have time for you, since I have a date." He sat happily down on the couch and grinned at Sherlock. That one grimaced, "Predictable, scented candles, cookies and wine." "Always works!" Victor smiled and gave Sherlock a look he only knew to well from himself. He was deducing him. "Tell me something. About your brother." Sherlock mused. "He's always on a diet, I call it the cake diet. The rule is you must not eat unhealthy, unless it comes to cake, then the first rule is to break. " Victor smiled amused and said nothing. "He is the British government, he loves a good performance, tailored suits, he likes control. As a brother he has always told me that the east wind gets all of us. He takes the unworthy from Earth. That was mostly me. "" He is quite a lot older than you, big brothers often tend to feel as an extension of their parents. "" Oh yes, he was definitely more a father than a brother.. Or better a mum" Sherlock mimicked Mycroft's tone: "Go to bed Sherlock, it's getting late. You have to eat, Sherlock, or you will die, Grow up Sherlock, you're too old to play hide and seek. Drugs, Sherlock? For real ? What should I tell Mummy and Daddy? "At the last statement, he moved his legs to the body and put his arms around them." He was the only one who took care of you. When did he stop?" For a while both were silent, then he said," When he went to boarding school. He has gone and left me in a much too big house, without a human soul that understood me." "Did you then started with the drugs?" But before Sherlock could answer the doorbell rang. Victor rolled his eyes. "He comes early." "I hope not." Victor laughed and Sherlock grinned dirty before he threw his coat on and said he needed a little fresh air . Then he glanced over Victors Date and left the apartment. When he came out, he was greeted by clinging cold air. His brain was already working on the next steps of his work as a thought of John distracted him. It was always the same. Sherlock was gone, while his roommate was at home with his date. He remembered an evening:

Sherlock was analyzing a new ash as John came up the stairs. "Hey." He muttered as he walked into the kitchen. "Great, we have nothing here!" he grumbled. Sherlock didn't respond, he knew John and his habit to make his anger immediately air. He would later go shopping or they would order take away and the incident would be forgotten. It would be a quiet, cozy evening. Perhaps they would look craptelly and he would deduce the people and make John laugh. "Sherlock, are you listening to me?" Asked John and tore him from his thoughts. "Hm?" John cleared his throat, a little clumsy, "I was just wondering if you're going out tonight?" Sherlock looked at him, he was nervous, he clenched and opened his left hand again and again, he was hungry, he had not slept much, something about the way he was standing was off, "I don't understand what you're on about John. Had I something to do that concerns you, I would have told you for sure. "John ran a hand through his bright blond hair and sighed. Something was definitely different. "I just thought maybe you'd like to go out?" Sherlock frowned. "Do you want to go out, then?" "No, I mean you can go out!" "Why should I go out?" Slowly he was seriously confused. John ran his hand down his face and sighed again. "Okay, listen Sherlock, Jannette is coming tonight and I would like to ... you know ..." "become sexually active?" Asked Sherlock without even a slight hint of embarrassment, while the ears of his roommate changed their color slightly pink. "I kind of ..." he muttered, without looking into his eyes. "...promised her that you're not here!"

Sherlock paused, lost in his thoughts. He longed for a cigarette. That evening he did go, and had left John with his date. He even had his first Fix for months this evening . He didn't asked himself why, but now that he walked along the cold streets of Russia , he wondered whether it had simply been pain. "Look at that, Sherlock." Said Mind-Palace Mycroft "Here you are alone while the others enjoy themselves. Some things never change. " " Get lost, Mycroft! "He muttered. But Mycroft didn't seem to be done. "Do you remember, you never wanted to play with the other children. Mummy and Daddy were always disappointed in you." "I just didn't want to! " "No, not that you knew, physics has always been easier than human emotions. "" It's better this way, emotions slow your mind. " "And so you will stay the little lonely boy, who always had his homework done and never had a single friend! " Sherlock stopped again. His eyes blurred with tears that rolled down his face. "Victor - shit" he swore. "Why do you constantly have my feelings conjure up?" He rubbed his eyes until they were dry again and was relieved that it was so dark around him. He turned right and came into a park. The trees which stood out from the black dark blue night sky calmed him. His breathing was quiet and when he reached a bench under a lantern he had recovered. He looked at his clock, only half an hour had passed since he had left the apartment.  
Before his thoughts could drift again into darker realms, someone sat down beside him. The man gasped, as if he had just run a 1000meter. When he was breathing normally again, he looked at him. "Sherlock, right?" Now the recognized him. It was one of Victor's friends. The guy with the black hair. "Do you still live with him?"   
"Yes"  
“Wow, I guess that means it is serious with you two. Usually the guys are out of the apartment as soon as hes done with them. He's not one for breakfast if you know what I mean.” "He chuckled and Sherlock felt the urge to enlighten him. "We are not involved." He looked at him with astonishment. "No? I could have sworn you have a certain chemistry. "" No, we're just flatmates." " And friends, I suppose." Sherlock had to swallow something. John had been his only friend and until a few days he would have said that without a doubt, but Moriarty had made it clear to him that there were other people in Sherlock's life that were important to him. And Victor had become without him noticing it, one of these people. "One could say so ..." he answered. "I probably should have thought of it myself," the man began again, "If you'd be really together, it wouldn't be likely for you to sit here in an empty park in the middle of the night. I've heard he's a pretty good lover! " Sherlock had enough of the rambling of the other man and started to tell his own thoughts. "The question is, what are you doing here at this time, even though you're in a long-standing relationship?" "Has Victor told you about me?" "Of course not, it's perfectly obvious: You're not enduring athletes while you were running here. The short distance has completely gotten you out of breath, you're wearing your pajama shirt, everyone can conclude that you had a fight and hastily left the house. Also you seem nervous, you repeatedly scratch yourself on the left ear. A habit that needs time to develop, so the dispute and the relationship are of longer duration. "The man stared at him in amazement before he shut his mouth and shook his head sadly. "I didn't know that I'm so easy to see through, normally I am told, I'm hard to understand." "Your partner has said this to you. It is quite obvious what the problem is. You are in a long-standing relationship and everyday life has you firmly in control. The spontaneity is lost. Your partner longs for adventure, something like when you started the relationship. Gestures that show him that you love him. Spontaneous weekends. Special Places. He wants to be surprised. He is bored." "That's why I ran away. I thought I will be left alone. "" No, he loves you. He even stays with you though your new habit of smoking. He wouldn't leave you, but he longs for a new beginning." After that Sherlock said nothing and wondered if he could scrounge a cigarette from the guy. , "I'm married." Sherlock stared at him and didn't understand where he could stick this new information. "I mean ... with a woman! Why do you think I'm gay? " Sherlock froze. His brain went back to the party and analyzed rapidly everything he had seen. The answer took him five minutes: There was no clue.  
He had accepted too easily. Frustrated, he ran his fingers through his hair. "Stupid, I was so stupid!" He stared at the man, "I just assumed you were gay, because Victor was there and some of the others were gay." "Well," the man muttered, "Guess even you make mistakes sometimes! "He grinned. "Usually not!"

"You were wrong!" "Brown Sauce or ketchup?" "You were wrong, the drug was not in the sugar!" "A bit ... will not happen again."

"Well doesn't matter. I also believed simply that you're gay. Is it true?" Sherlock looked up. The star looked gorgeous. "I'm not sure ... Until recently I thought I was above such things." "About such things? What kind of? Love? " He chuckled. "Also, yes." The other was abruptly serious. "What changed?" "I think Victor ... somehow." The man's eyes filled with pity and Sherlock felt the need to justify himself. "Not like this! He talked to me about my past and some of it make me feel like I would have to rethink it. "" Some things we learn quite late. " Sherlock said nothing and wondered if it was too late. John wouldn't be single forever. But actually he never had a problem with John's womanizing. In the end he had been home. None of the girls could ever make him stay if Sherlock asked him to come. The thought relaxed him. "I think I'll go home." The black-haired held out his hand. "I Catalin, by the way." "Pleasant." They said goodbye and everyone went away in a different direction.  
As Sherlock came into the apartment, it smelled strongly of cigarette smoke and his previous appetite returned. Victor sat on the couch, smoking." Oh pardon, Sherlock, I thought you're gone longer." Sherlock didn't respond, instead he took a cigarette from Victor, sat down beside him on the couch and moved closer to him, until he could light his cigarette with Victors. He looked as Victors pupil dilated and chuckled dark. "What are you laughing about?" "You! You are so different, you know like no other how to manipulate me and yet your body reactions are like everyone else." Victor slowly drew his cigarette. " You admit that I have a certain effect on you." "I think I can admit that you irritate me. Something that not many people can say of them self. "" Well, I'm flattered. "" That was not my intention. "" What was your intention? "  
"I don't know." "I think I know one of your intentions." He leaned back and blew a puff of smoke in the air.  
"And I would love to discuss it...tomorrow in my bedroom." Sherlock looked to the ceiling and blew out smoke. Then he looked at Victor's hungry face. "What's behind the door?" "Nothing that concerns you." "Are you sure?" "To one hundred percent." They stayed a while in devout silence until Victor finally asked: "When you go back home, you will talk with John?" "Without a doubt." "I mean seriously, about your feelings for him? " Sherlock was silent for quite a while, then he said quietly: "I don't know whether he reciprocated my feelings." "Really? I read his block, the guy gushing over it how much he appreciates you and how he adores you. You can read it in each entry." "You googled me." "Yup, even before I met you. I don't live with a total stranger."  
“And yet you sleep with people that have the IQ of a pea." "What?" Your last 'achievement'. A man over 30 with three cats, who lives with his mother, is unemployed and addicted to gambling. You can do better." Victor dropped his cigarette out of astonishment, fortunately it fell on the table and went out. "Why do you think he is stupid?" Sherlock leaned forward to Victor until he was close to his face." It's true, isn't it?" Victor's eyes flickered over Sherlocks attractive face and he tried to take the quake from his voice as he replied: "Yes..." Sherlock leaned back satisfied. "You shouldn't let your crossword puzzle lying around." Victor laughed, "You know Sherlock, it's not all about intelligence." "I know it's the sexual skills, but isn't that incredible boring?" "It is extremely helpful if you want to avoid to develop a certain attachment." Ah,the you don't get breakfast- thing." "Not only that, I don't even let them sleep here." He grinned devilishly and they ended the evening.


End file.
